The earthwork, once roughly thirty-five metres across, is now entirely levelled, leaving no visible surface trace whatsoever. What makes this particular site quietly interesting is not what survives but what the historical maps reveal about the process of disappearance, and how long, in fact, it took.

The 1842 Ordnance Survey six-inch map recorded the site as a hachured circular enclosure, the standard cartographic shorthand for an earthen ringfort, the kind of enclosed farmstead that tens of thousands of early medieval Irish families would have occupied between roughly the fifth and twelfth centuries. By 1904 and again in 1939, the northern half of the bank had been absorbed into the field fence system, essentially pressed into service as a boundary rather than demolished outright. When P. J. Hartnett noted it in 1939, he recorded a diameter of one hundred and twenty feet and observed that a semi-circular fence still formed the northern boundary, while the track of the old rampart could still be traced to the south. Locally it was known as a lios, the Irish term for a ringfort, often carrying folkloric associations with the supernatural that historically discouraged farmers from disturbing such sites. Whatever protection that reputation once offered, it was not enough. At some point after Hartnett's visit, the remaining earthwork was levelled entirely.

There is nothing to see at the site today. It is working farmland, and the ringfort exists now only in old maps and in the line of a field fence whose slight curve is the last structural memory of a settlement that once stood here.